


Hook and Reel

by grimcognito



Series: Muddy Magic Verse [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Junkrat is a Mudskipper, M/M, Merperson Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Misunderstandings, Poachers, Swamp Witch Mako Rutledge, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: Mako is a solitary witch who has come to enjoy the company of the mer residing in his swamp. When Jamie goes missing, Mako is ready to take down whoever he needs to in order to get him back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another huge thanks to AmbulanceRobots who offered up mudskippers as a fish for Jamie to be. Her stroke of genius is why this exists.

It took two days for Mako to realize Jamie was missing. The first day, he’d chalked it up to Jamie wanting to be alone. It wasn’t unusual for him to hide away in a tunnel he’d dug for a day or so sometimes. Mako had never asked him about it, but Jamie offered up the information when he’d reappeared after hiding the first time. 

“Too much. Too loud. Too bright.” He’d claimed all in a rush, as if determined to explain his reasons to Mako as he clung to him. His thin fingers had left streaks of mud on Mako’s arm, where he’d clutched at him. The little swamp-rat was always so grabby, though to be fair, with only one full arm and one functioning fin, it might have as much to do with keeping his balance as it was desire to be inside of Mako’s personal space as often as possible. 

So, for the first day, Mako assumed it was the usual overstimulation. By day two, he began to feel uneasy, like something was out of place in his little sanctuary. None of his traps had been tripped, and none of his barriers had been disrupted, but still, it nagged at him that there had been no sign of his companion. 

Before dawn on the third day, Mako had enough of being unsettled and wanted answers. He yanked on his clothes and bypassed his suspended porch to wade into the murky swamp water. He trudged through until the water reached up to his chest and held his hands palm up just below the surface. The water went still, then slowly rippled out above his palms and he could feel the hum of magic thrumming through him and out in pulsing waves. This swamp was his, and he was part of it in return, just as his mother and her lake had a bond. Something was wrong and he was out of patience, if he could find answers nowhere else, then his swamp would tell him what happened. 

He felt the disturbance of water before the rough scales of something large brushed against his side. The crocodiles. They swam around him, brushing him occasionally as if in greeting. One, the oldest of them all, with several ragged, roughly healed scars and only one eye, breached the surface to peer curiously at him. Mako carefully reached out, placing one hand on her snout and closing his eyes as he felt her reach back through the bond.

“Where is Jamie?” He asked, picturing Jamie in his head as clearly as possible. Speech was hit or miss with creatures, and he’d found that picturing what he wanted helped get ideas across much more effectively. 

The crocodiles around him seemed to grow agitated, brushing by him more roughly, and from the elder crocodile, one thought repeated, each time with more viciousness than the last. 

Hunters! Hunters!

Her tail thrashed against the water and she jerked away snapping at air. Mako pulled his hand back, more from surprise than concern over being attacked. He curled it into a fist and grit his teeth against the hot anger curling in his chest. He tamped it down and reached out again. The crocodile settled once more and he placed his hand back on her wide snout. 

“Where?” He rumbled out the question.

This time, when he closed his eyes, he saw a different part of the swamp. It was from the perspective of the water, but he recognized it from the edge of his property, not too far from his barriers. There were boats, indistinct figures with long poles, nets, and hooks. The image changed and it was another figure, shrieking and flailing as it was dragged out of the water and into the boat. 

Jamie. 

Poachers had Jamie. 

Mako barely remembered to pass his thanks through the bond before he yanked his hand away with a snarl. Crocs were quick to get out of his way, sliding down into the water instead of laying around on the bank as they usually would. He stormed back into his cabin, uncaring about the muddy trail he’d left in his wake, and nearly ripped the lid off his supply chest when he opened it. 

It was only a few minutes later that he was stepping into his boat, automatically steadying it with one hand as it dipped and rocked, the other hand settling the bulky chain reel securely at his hip. It had been a while since he’d had to use his hook, but he was confident he could handle it just fine. If not, his rage would help him get back into his formerly blood-hungry state of mind. His old gun was holstered on his other side, and the weight of his weaponry was both familiar and odd at the same time. Even stranger was the feeling of resettling his leather mask over his face. He hadn’t needed it in ages.

He closed his eye and pictured the location he’d start tracking the poachers. Took a deep breath that smelled of sweat and leather and the copper of old blood.

It was Mako that left the cabin, but it was Roadhog that the poachers were going to meet. 

…………………………….

Miles away, in the warehousing district of the city’s port area, the on-shift members of the Overwatch Rescue team were gathered around the transport tank and staring down into it in varied degrees of confusion and awe. 

“I’ve never seen a species like him. You said he was in the swamp? Surprised he’s not more injured with all the crocodiles in there.” Mei said, fingers tapping at full speed against the screen of her tablet, eyes bright with this new discovery. 

Jack sighed. “If he’s half as feisty on a normal basis as he was when I got to him, then I’m not surprised he’s managed to survive there, even if it cost him a couple limbs.”

Mercy hummed a noise in acknowledgement as she ran scans over the poor mer’s form. The kid looked to be in rough shape as Jack looked him over. Worryingly pale once all the mud had been washed off him, one arm was gone below the elbow with ragged scarring at the stump, and a missing pelvic fin on the same side. Jack wondered how he managed to get around with only half his limbs, but clearly the kid had managed somehow. 

Hell, he’d been managing more than just moving around when Jack had caught up to the poachers. One was dead, and the other three were struggling for control over the mer, who was fighting his damndest to kill them too. Jack had taken the three out easily enough, none of them had noticed his approach in the chaos and three tranq darts later, they dropped fast enough. 

The mer’s thrashing never stopped, nor did his shrieking. Metal wire wrapped around him, tight enough to dig into his flesh and draw blood from the strength of his struggles. Jack’s small boat knocked against the poacher’s and he tried to calm the mer down enough to communicate. 

“Woah, woah. I’m a friend. Those poachers are going to prison and I’m here to help you.” Close as he was now, Jack could see the mer wasn't looking good. Missing limbs, bruises and cuts, alarmingly thin. How long had they had him? The mud he was covered in made it hard to tell what color his tail was, but it wasn’t scaled as far as Jack could see, which was startling, though his main concern was the injuries.

Bright orange eyes glared back at him above a sharp nose and sharper teeth bared in a snarl. The mer lashed out, trying to catch his legs with a slap of his tail that would surely send Jack into the water. Jack moved back out of range, not wanting to risk contact with more than one unhappy creature today. He kept his gun in one hand, knowing he’d likely have to use the tranq darts on this poor kid as well. 

The mer’s chest was heaving and he looked desperate and panicked. Shit. Jack held his free hand up and his gun down at his side. “Look. I don’t know if you understand my language, but I’m here to help you. We have people who can heal you and find your way home.” 

“Home!” The mer seemed to latch onto the word, his darting eyes and attention focusing on Jack suddenly. 

Good. It was a starting point. “Yeah. Home. We can get you some help--”

“Help!” The mer shouted, eyes wide like the thought was new, or he’d forgotten help was something he could have. It twisted something in Jack’s chest and he took a careful step forward, setting one boot against the rim of the poachers’ boat when the mer tilted his head back and screamed loudly enough to startle him back. 

“HELP! MAKO! HEEELP!” The mer shrieked continuously, his face going a splotchy red with the effort.

“Shit, kid!” Jack cursed, looking around to see if anyone was around to hear the cries. The poachers knew their territory well though, and unless someone had followed them or Jack out here, there was no one for miles. “What are you screaming about? I’m here to help, you don’t need to yell for it.” 

“MAKO! MAKO HELP!” 

Jack grit his teeth and wondered how someone who shouldn’t be able to last long periods out of water had such damned strong lungs. Who or what the hell was Mako? The mer was flinging himself from side to side, trying to wriggle his way right off the boat, still screaming. Jack had sighed and raised his tranq gun. 

Now here they were. The team had met him near the docks and helped him situate the mer, who was still out cold and limp. Mercy had set up her internal scanner and Mei was caught up in the excitement of a new discovery. Jack had a headache and just wanted the day to be over soon. No time for that though, he still had to head back out and track down the other poachers. The fingerprint results from the poachers still tied up in his boat were men from a much larger organisation. There was a good chance they’d been working in squads, covering as much land as possible for mers before moving on. The tactic worked well for them, and they’d be gone soon if he didn’t go back and track them down. 

He tapped his comm and stepped away from Mei and the doctor so as not to disturb their work. “Zarya. Torbjorn. We have a new guest, but there may be more poachers lurking out there. Professionals this time. You two will be my backup for this.” 

He got an affirmative from them both and headed back to the boat. They’d drop off these wastes of human garbage at the police and collect their bounties before heading out. One was groaning and Jack grunted in annoyance, unholstered his gun, and darted him again. It wasn’t yet noon, they had time to search the border of the marshlands before night fell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, firstly, thank you for all the lovely comments! I'll reply to everyone tonight. :D  
> Secondly, this story has been a bit of a struggle for me to write, so I'm breaking it into three chapters while I get the ending all sorted. Enjoy!

“Well that’s a hell of a mess.” Torbjӧrn said. He was the first to break the silence the three of them had fallen into after finding the scattered remains of what Jack assumed was another poaching team. 

There were no bodies, which Jack was grateful for, but there was enough blood splattered in an alarmingly wide radius that he was sure the team was dead. The mud in the area was heavily disturbed, covered in drag marks and what might be tracks. He noticed five long divots that were made by a human hand leading toward the water. One of them had been dragged in alive. 

Jack stood up and looked around again. The blood wasn’t completely dried, this hadn't happened more than a day ago, if his guess was correct. And it was more than just crocs, though he’d been keeping a close eye on the water around them. The boat that had belonged to the poachers was heavily damaged, with chunks missing as if they’d been torn off somehow. A glint of metal caught his eye and he stepped closer to inspect the trunk of the nearest tree. Beneath the blood, there was shrapnel embedded in the wood. An explosion? Something small enough not to leave scorch marks but strong enough to kill at least three men and leave shrapnel embedded in the trees? It seemed unlikely. 

Torbjӧrn called him over while Zarya kept her focus, and her very large gun, on the area around them, either for more crocodiles or whoever had been able to take down heavily armed poachers. 

“This definitely wasn’t a damned croc.” Torbjӧrn pointed at the damaged area of the boat. 

Jack grunted. “I should hope not. What do you think did it?”

“Something with a chain, far as I can tell. There’s drag marks from it, here.” Torbjӧrn pointed and Jack nodded, though it just looked like more splintered wood to him. “Some kinda hook or grappling device is my guess. Maybe attached to a motor. Probably tried to reel in the poaching team and pulled too hard while they were trying to get away. Ripped nearly half the hull right off.”

Jack mirrored Torbjӧrn’s position without realising, hands on his hips and frowning at the half sunken remains of the boat. Why not just shoot the poachers? The scene was gruesome as it could be without any actual bodies, so Jack assumed it hadn’t been a quiet fight. What sort of machine shot grappling hooks to drag in boats? Some sort of hybridized harpoon? 

Something shifted under the water, causing the slightest drag of current against the surface and all three shared a look. Zarya repositioned her gun toward the area while Jack and Torbjӧrn very carefully climbed back into the boat. 

“I think it’s about time we move on, yes?” Zarya asked, not looking away from the water. Torbjӧrn snorted and Jack nodded in agreement, already setting course to exit the swamp. 

“Yeah. We’ll make a call to the local authorities and have them check this out. It’s not in our jurisdiction anymore.” They were given a lot of leeway when it came to their rescue work, a result of decades worth of negotiations between the shrinking numbers of magical and creature folk, and the human world governments. Teams funded by the government were set up and trained to assist the more supernaturally inclined, and were given valuable information on various species in return while keeping them safe from the greedy hands of corporations and headhunters who were more than ready to learn through experimentation. 

But this level of violence meant something much bigger was going on and that meant it went into the jurisdiction of the local law enforcement. There was a killer on the loose, in a vastly unexplored swamp, hunting poachers. There were so many possible motives, each more outlandish than the last. Jack was not looking forward to the paperwork, though he’d be more than happy to dump this newly discovered nonsense into the lap of some unfortunate team of detectives. 

Law enforcement could comb the swamp, Jack had an injured mer and far too many phone calls to focus on. 

……………………………….

Mako watched them go, eyes narrowed behind the glass lens of his mask. As long as kept still, it was a simple trick of magic to keep the three from spotting him. Their eyes would simply glance past him every time they scanned the area. His spot a few dozen meters away, and behind layers of low-hanging branches only helped make him invisible to them. 

The symbol on the side of their boat was the reason he'd called away the crocodiles. Overwatch. The middlemen of the human and supernatural worlds. They seemed to have been investigating the poachers when they arrived to see Roadhog’s handiwork. Which meant there was a good chance they knew where Jamie was, or who had him at least. 

Once they were out of sight, and the sound of the boat’s motor was fading with distance, Mako looked out past the edge of the swamp he called home. The city was just a couple hours away by boat but there was nothing out here for tourists to find interesting enough to explore. Exactly why he’d chosen it. It was almost three years since he’d been anywhere larger than the nearby village for supplies, and nearly a decade since he’d been to the major port city. He had hoped for it to be much longer. 

He dipped his hand into the water beside his boat and ran his fingertips over the rough scales of the ancient crocodile resting beside it. It was easier to think now that the initial rage was quenched with the death of the poachers, now settled deep in his chest like hot coals instead of blinding him with red. It was possible that Overwatch might be working with the poachers, but that wasn’t the sense he’d gotten from them. Which meant they’d probably taken Jamie, if they’d found him, and were going to relocate him somewhere ‘safer’ as if they had any idea what that was for the mer, or Jamie was injured and needed healing. Mako growled at the thought. 

Worse yet, Jamie didn’t take kindly to being forced in containment, or interacting with strangers. He’d fight and shriek, claw and bite in his attempts to get free. Creatures like him weren’t considered worth the effort, not as far as Mako remembered. He was near feral and already injured. They might think they were doing him a favor by putting him down for good. 

He hadn’t even realised he’d moved his hand from the water to clench the side of the boat until he heard the wood beginning to splinter under his grip. Slowly, he relaxed his grip and took several long, deep breaths. Jamie was okay, or at least alive. All Mako had to do was get him back. 

That meant a change of clothes. His were covered in bloodstains and drying mud. He aimed his boat back toward his cabin, plans settling in his mind. 

Hours later, Mako neared the docks for smaller boats, dressed in clean and casual clothes, a worn and faded button-up shirt with jeans. A fishing vest covered up the stiff line of the machete he wore under his shirt, the sheath pressing against the length of his spine. Both his hook and gun were too bulky and obvious to carry in the city, as well as a glaring sign to his more notorious identity if anyone recognized them.

He paid his docking fee and ignored the stares of the fishermen nearby. This wasn’t the touristy side of the ports, it was full of workers, the people and buildings both worn down by weather and age. They’d forget about how odd his presence was as soon as he was gone, the spell he’d woven around himself on the trip over would make sure of that. He ambled past them and headed toward the dark, emptied alleys leading maze-like into the warehousing district and carefully ignored the tugging sensation that led his way like a tether hooked under his ribcage.


End file.
